The Consequences of Misinformation
by Horsegirl01
Summary: Little Legolas and the twins discover the consequences of knowing (and giving) false knowledge, or misinformation.


Summary: Little Legolas and the twins discover the consequences of knowing (and giving) false knowledge, or misinformation.

Written for the September Teitho prompt. Reviews are welcome, but please no flames.

A big thank you to everyone who takes the time to read my stories, comment on them, and favorite them. You all inspire me so much! :)

Rating: K+ to be safe

 **The Consequences of Misinformation**

Glorfindel frowned as he muttered silently to himself, placing the sparring swords back in their holder with such force that the holder nearly fell over onto the ground, barely rescued by Lindir, who had stopped by to discuss the coming evening's musical entertainment with the elder lord and seneschal of Rivendell.

Eyebrows raised, the younger elf merely held the holder for his friend and wisely remained silent. The formidable Balrog slayer was obviously in a mood, and the dark-haired musician had learned long ago to remain as invisible as possible when the other elf was in one of his moods.

As he replaced the last sword, Glorfindel finally seemed to notice that he wasn't alone, quickly hiding the look of surprise that flew into his eyes at the sight of the meek minstrel holding the bag for him. Forming his features into an unreadable mask, the blonde lord managed a slight smile, though the rest of his face remained taut, an indicator of his festering temper.

Pretty sure that the elder elf was not mad at him, since he could not remember having committed any offense against his friend, Lindir decided that today was the day he would go down in history books as having fulfilled a braver mission even than defeating a Balrog—he would dare to ask the irate Balrog slayer what was wrong.

"Is something the matter, mellon-nin?" He put all of his fierce bravado into his voice, pleased when he could not detect any trembling in it.

Glorfindel's eyebrows raised in disbelief. "Is something wrong? Is something WRONG, he asks? Whatever is NOT wrong…is what you should ask instead!" His grip tightened on the weapons bag until Lindir was sure that the strong material was finally going to break apart after centuries of faithful service to the realm.

Having turned to face the bag, Glorfindel turned back to Lindir so suddenly and sharply that the younger elf was unable to restrain a small flinch as his body attempted some type of self-preservation and swayed backwards ever so slightly. "Do I LOOK like a monster to you, Lindir? Tell me honestly, do I have the appearance of a MONSTER?"

Lindir blanched. He should not have come here right now. In fact, he should not have come here at all…ever… He could have claimed he had been unable to find the other elf in time to orchestrate the musicians tonight. He could have come up with any number of excellent excuses, and all would have spared him from _this_. As the blonde elf continued to stare expectantly at him, he began to realize that he had not been given a rhetorical question and was expected to provide an answer of some type. "N-no, my lord," he stammered, unable to come up with anything more eloquent with the fierce warrior quite within strangling distance.

"Then I ask you, my friend, why would a tiny elfling, one I might mention that I have never caused ANY harm to whatsoever, suddenly think I AM a monster?" Glorfindel's face was reddening as he recalled the object of discussion, and Lindir began to wonder how he could even give a semi-soothing answer when HE was beginning to wonder the same thing as the aforementioned elfling, since his blonde friend was beginning to slightly resemble some type of monster at the moment. However, ever the peacemaker, the kindly minstrel decided that he indeed could not recall Glorfindel ever actually harming him…or anyone…so perhaps he was just unusually upset about something.

Laying a tentative (and very brave) hand on the irate elf's shoulder, he squeezed it gently. "Calm down, my friend. I cannot help you if I do not know what is wrong. What is all this about an elfling thinking you are a monster? I assume you speak of Legolas, since he is the only elfling here…"

More hurt and upset than seriously angry, the blonde elf's shoulders slumped at his friend's soothing tone and actions. He took a deep breath. "Yes…Legolas, of course. I do not understand it; I simply do not understand it! I have never even met him before this visit, and he acts terrified of me!" A look of pleading filled his green eyes then as he met his friend's concerned gaze. "Tell me, Lindir, what have I done to make him fear me? Is it something I am not aware of? Something that might scare small elflings but not grown elves?"

Lindir's eyes widened imperceptibly. Though considered young according to the immortality of elves, he was still older than the twins and had seen this seasoned warrior handle those two mischievous elflings with kid gloves and a gentleness that few would suspect him capable of. He had thoroughly spoiled those two young ones, and they loved and respected him fiercely—other than when they were trying to play one of their famous pranks on him, of course. He did not think the kind-hearted blonde elf had it in him to scare elflings, and he said so.

"I do not know what has happened, mellon-nin. Have you asked the elfling?"

"I cannot ask the elfling, for the simple reason that he will not get even within shouting distance of me. It is quite difficult to hold a conversation with someone who is not close enough to even see with the eyes." Glorfindel lowered his head, clenching his hands into fists.

Lindir frowned. It was obvious that this matter was upsetting his friend a great deal, so he must find a way to help him resolve the issue—assuming, of course, that it was just the matter of a misunderstanding. "Did you yell at him, perchance? Or was there some instance in which the elfling could have thought you sounded angry with him?"

Glorfindel looked confused now. "I have not gotten to speak with him even one time since he arrived. Elrond introduced us the first evening he was here and we all dined together. He has been purposely avoiding me since." He rubbed a hand over his face. "I was looking forward to getting to know him, too. Especially after all the tales I've heard from Elrond and the twins, and Erestor. I had hoped we might be great friends."

Lindir nearly smiled at this, the corners of his mouth rising slightly despite his efforts to the contrary. The formidable Balrog slayer was a big softie after all… He began to feel sympathy for his friend and thought for a moment on how he could help him. He clapped his hands together suddenly as a thought came to mind, startling Glorfindel into nearly dropping the bag he had gone back to straightening. "I have an idea: I will find the elfling and bring him with me on the pretext of showing him a new song I have written. I will carry him and bring him back here where you will be waiting. Then I can 'introduce' him again and you can offer to teach him archery, since the elfling has a special propensity for it. That way, he will be forced to be near you long enough to get to know you and will see that you are certainly no monster!"

Glorfindel's features brightened as he tapped his chin for a moment and pondered his friend's wise words. He smiled then. "I like it. I think it just might work! Thank you mellon-nin! Elrond should have you advise him more often in matters, for you show much wisdom!" He laid a grateful hand on the other's shoulder and squeezed it lightly. Lindir smiled back at him and returned the gesture, then hurried off to fulfill his mission while Glorfindel finished gathering the sparring swords and placed them in the weapons room, whistling cheerily and grabbing a large bow and arrow and a smaller sized one from the room before returning to the training field to await Lindir and the cute Mirkwood prince.

Legolas had spent much time since his birth with Elrond and the twins. The Imladris elves had visited Mirkwood often both for his birth and afterwards. Elflings such a rare blessing in Middle Earth, the Noldor elves enjoyed spending time with the child, appreciating his fresh innocence and bright spirit. Elrond had shared millennia-long friendship with Thranduil, Mirkwood's king and Legolas' father, and he used the time spent with the elfling as an opportunity to expand upon their friendship—most especially after Legolas' mother was killed by orcs when the elfling was still in his toddler years.

He had finally convinced Thranduil to allow the child to spend several months in Imladris. He had arranged to take the child back with the Noldorin contingent after a long visit to Mirkwood, and Thranduil and his warriors would travel to Imladris in a few months to bring the child back home.

Glorfindel, the mighty Balrog slayer and seneschal of Rivendell, had yet to travel to Mirkwood since Legolas' birth, having been required to stay in Imladris to govern in Elrond's long absences, so he had yet to meet the young elfling prince. Legolas had heard his father, Thranduil, speak tales of the formidable warrior, especially the tale of the Balrog's defeat, but the tales he had heard thus far had been filled with age-appropriate battles where the hero defeated the evil within, using his cunning wisdom and mighty strength. The twins and Elrond had mentioned him occasionally as the formidable commander in charge of Elrond's army. His father had told him a few bedtime tales of the mighty warrior during their earlier days of close friendship, but Legolas had always fallen asleep before Thranduil could finish the stories, stories that ended in his age-old friend performing some great kindness or saving someone's life.

Ergo, to Legolas, the ancient and historically famous elf was someone akin to a distant god—a god who controlled with an efficient sword of justice and a stern courage of will. Legolas only knew what he had heard, and he had not the knowledge to judge any differently. The twins knew this, and decided to use this to their advantage as they made the long journey back to Imladris with the restless and excited, albeit homesick, little elf.

The twins began to fill the elfling's mind with 'other' tales about the blonde seneschal of Imladris, telling him exaggerated instances in which the formidable commander had punished his warriors (or the twins) for some small misdeed. The tales slowly progressed to the point where Glorfindel was a complete monster of evil, one whom snatched up a cane or whip at the slightest provocation and beat his victim senseless.

After several nights of such horror-filled tales, the twins assured Legolas that the blonde-haired elf, Glorfindel, was one that he should stay away from at all costs. Determined to play one of their largest pranks on their tutor yet, they continued to fill his head with stories of horror and dread concerning the elder elf when he came upon elflings he disliked, from locking any misbehaving elflings into broom closets for a week to lashing them fiercely with sharpened tree limbs and hard canes. The poor wood elfling was quavering in terror by the time they finished their stories. Having never even heard of lashings before, the small elf could not fathom such a humiliating and painful punishment, and the twins' tales of how tiny of an offense could potentially earn such a punishment had him fearing to be within even shouting range of the unknown elf.

"Glorfindel does not care overly much for elflings, Legolas," Elladan said the night before they arrived in Imladris. "He was so cruel to us when we were elflings, and we had to learn to stay far away from him to avoid the horrible beatings we told you about. Otherwise… (he faked a shiver here) we might not have survived to tell this morbid tale."

"Don't forget now, Legolas," Elrohir warned, "If Glorfindel ever asks you to get something for him—especially a 'special' something—flee as fast as you can, for it undoubtedly will be a punishing implement of some type, like a fiercely hard cane or sharpened tree limb. You will not be able to sit or lie on your back for weeks afterwards, I assure you!" The younger twin barely managed to keep a straight face, lying through his teeth as he described horror after horror. Glorfindel, of course, had never laid a hand on either of the twins in punishment. Nor had their father or Erestor, for that matter. They knew well the manners of punishment that the race of men used, however, having had so many close dealings with them over the centuries, and they thought this would be the best way to make the child scared of the ancient, blonde elf. Both twins were barely able to restrain grins of anticipation as they imagined Glorfindel's look of shock when Legolas exhibited sheer terror at the sight of the elder elf.

The younger twin felt a slight twinge in his conscience as he continued to elaborate on the falsehoods about the elder elf. He actually felt a great fondness for the ancient elf who had taught him so many valuable skills during his childhood. However, the elder elf was just amiable enough to make the perfect scapegoat for one of their 'better' pranks, and the twins still owed him revenge for the extra weeks of stable duty they had received for their last big prank. So Elrohir pushed his conscience to the side, much like his older twin had apparently done, and continued the horrid tales of fright.

"Aye," Elladan added, "especially if he asks you to go to the right to retrieve the item. If he ever, ever tells you to go to the right, then plan on a punishment that is even worse than any Elrohir and I have ever received, for that means that you have done something to make him furious beyond reason, and he will punish you accordingly." The elder twin then felt a slight twinge on _his_ conscience when the small elfling paled even further and wrapped his arms around his thin body as though to shield himself from a beating. This prank was too excellent to let go so easily, however, and he pushed forward with his plan, making sure the elfling knew just how dangerous it would be to turn right or to get the special item.

Both twins knew that one of Glorfindel's favorite activities when they were smaller had been to surprise the elflings with small gifts (the same scary monster that supposedly beat small elflings into a state of incapacity). He would turn it into a game, asking the small beings to go get something for him in his chambers (which was on the right-hand side of the hall). Of course, they would always find some small treasure of some type, liked a carved wooden horse and soldier apiece or a set of spinning sticks.

They had gotten the idea from a group of rangers recently that had been discussing the various ways they had sent their children in to fetch their own punishing sticks. Though the prank might seem cruel to those who had the misfortune to listen in, the twins thought it would last only until Glorfindel managed to track the child down and send him for his 'surprise.' Imagine the terrified elfling's amazement when instead of a punishing stick of some type he found a nice toy instead! The sheer terror would be worth it after that, they guessed, so they never allowed the small nudges of conscience to bother them at all, painting more horrific pictures as they went along.

They arrived in Imaldris in time for a late dinner the next evening, and Legolas was finally introduced to the 'horrific monster' of the twins' tales. Glorfindel, who had been looking forward to meeting an elfling after many centuries of time passed since seeing one, had prepared a lovely children's tune of valor to sing to the child, as well as several stories of dragons and lairs that he had told the twins when little and that they had especially enjoyed. He had learned through Elrond of the elfling's skill with the bow and planned to offer the child some special tutelage as a surprise for him. In short, the 'horrible monster' was looking forward to thoroughly spoiling the little elf, and he had dressed with special care that evening for the grand occasion of finally meeting his old friend's only child.

He glanced several times at the little blonde figure seated beside Elrond at the high table as he walked into the Dining Hall that eve, curious and keen eyes taking in the similar features that so reminded him of his old friend, Thranduil. He had known the child's mother as well, though, and could detect the kind and curious eyes that matched the good Mirkwood lady, as well as the more delicate features and stature. The child looked almost 'frail' to him, and he hoped the elfling had journeyed well. When Elrond introduced the child to his seneschal, Glorfindel worried yet again when the elfling could not meet his eyes, instead holding out a slightly shaky hand to clasp in the way of male elves, as was deemed appropriate behavior for introductions. 'Ai!' thought Glorfindel, concern in his green eyes, 'the journey was too much for the child. He is shaking in weariness!'

Not wanting to tire him out, the elder elf managed the barest of smiles (his worry was too great for anything more) and sat down at his own seat to eat his meal, casting surreptitious glances at the child throughout the evening. Legolas, who could not determine the difference between a look of worry and a look of dislike, thought that the elder elf was casting him constant looks of dislike and hate the entire eve, and his already thoroughly shattered nerves (successfully orchestrated by the twins) steadily worsened to a case of near despair and terror.

His stomach in turmoil, the little elf was unable to devote much attention to his food, instead merely picking at the delicious-looking fare as though it had been poorly cooked. After several long minutes of this, minutes in which Elrond watched him surreptitiously out of the corner of his eye, the elder elf could no longer stay silent on the matter. "Is something wrong with the food, young one?" he asked the little elf in the type of voice the grownups often used with children who were misbehaving in some way.

Legolas promptly dropped his fork in surprise, the loud clatter as it fell unbidden to the ground reverberating through the large hall and drawing all conversation to a standstill while every gaze flew to their corner of the table. The small elf flushed darkly in embarrassment as he climbed carefully down from his chair and retrieved the wayward fork. "N-nay, my Lord," he stuttered as he climbed back up into his chair. "The food is delicious…I am merely weary and have not much appetite tonight, I fear."

Glorfindel's eyebrows rose at the little elf's perfect poise and manners; he spoke in an eloquent manner far beyond his years, and he marveled at Thranduil's ability to produce such a little angel. Legolas saw the elder lord's lifted brows and thought once again that the other elf must be angry at him. Placing his now-dirtied fork beside his plate, the elfling placed his shaking hands in his lap for a moment and lowered his head in despair.

Elrond, thinking the child felt that he had done something wrong by not eating, hastened to reassure the assuredly homesick little elf. "It is of no importance, penneth. I just desire to see your needs met, especially in this, your first night here. I hope you would let me know if there is anything you might wish to eat that is not here at the table, and I would be happy to fulfill your request." The kindly elven lord reached over and placed his large hand over the smaller one in the elfling's lap, squeezing it gently and then retreating to the elder elf's side.

Legolas managed a half-hearted smile of gratitude at him. "H-hannon le," he whispered, his eyes shining, and Elrond wondered how the outside stars had managed to get into the child's eyes, for they were bright and almost translucent when the child smiled. "There is nothing else I need," Legolas hastened to assure the elder elf. "This food is most delicious." As though he needed to prove it, the little elf picked up his spoon and lifted another tentative bit of food to his lips. Elrond breathed a sigh of relief and went back to his own dinner, still managing to keep a watchful gaze on the young one.

Legolas ended up dropped his cutlery several more times throughout dinner, mumbling embarrassed apologies and refusing to meet even Elrond's sharp gaze after the initial discussion. Eating very little of his food, he finally begged the elven lord to retire early to his room, pleading weariness from the journey.

A surprised elven Lord hesitantly agreed, wondering how the child could be so weary when he had slept most of the afternoon's ride away. He had seen the child's nervous actions though, and assumed it was just from the little one's state of homesickness. The strain of visiting a new place so far away from his father and home could take its toll on sensitive elflings, and Elrond thought extra rest would do the child good. "Come, little one," he said gently. "I will show you to your room and get you settled in for the evening." He was rewarded with a genuine smile as the elfling slipped rather awkwardly out of his seat (his legs were shaking too much to show his usual grace) and placed his small hand in the elder elf's larger one, the elfling studiously avoiding looking in Glorfindel's direction as he mentally gave thanks to the Valor for apparently having escaped the elder elf's clutches this eve.

"I would be happy to come up and tell you a bedtime tale if you desire, Legolas," Glorfindel said then, hoping to begin forming a bond between them and desiring to get to know the child better.

Legolas' face paled noticeably as he realized he had given thanks too soon. Doubtless Glorfindel was seeking another opportunity to flay him alive under the guise of reading a story to him. "No, thank you, my Lord," he said instantly. "I have long since outgrown bedtime tales, I fear."

Glorfindel raised a pale eyebrow in disbelief as he perused the small elf, only the size of a five-year-old human in comparative size, and wondered just how fast elflings grew up in Mirkwood. He wondered even more when the elfling bowed quickly and nearly dragged Elrond out of the room in his hurry to escape. He sat in a slight daze looking after the pair even after the door had closed behind them, then looked down at his own tunic and hands, wondering if he had perhaps turned a different shade of color or was wearing something distasteful on his clothing. He had the distinct feeling that this first meeting had drastically failed in some way…

The elfling was left to his own devices later that afternoon, and he chose to spend the time in the chambers allotted to him instead of wandering around outside. He did not want to take a chance on running into Glorfindel while he was alone without the twins to protect him! He curled up on the rug beside the fireplace and looked at the nice picture book Elrond had gifted him when they had arrived in Imladris,—Elrond was hoping to distract the child from feeling homesick—growing drowsy as the minutes passed. Finally his head slipped down a little and he nearly dropped the book, catching himself just in time and jerking awake as a knock sounded at the door.

Legolas shook his head to try to wake up as he heard the light knock, but the visitor did not wait for permission to enter, choosing instead to walk right in, smiling cheerfully at the sleepy elfling. It did not take Lindir long to see that the elfling had nearly been asleep. 'Good,' he thought to himself, 'he will be more submissive and Glorfindel will have a better chance of winning him over this way.' Before Legolas had even gathered his senses fully together, Lindir had swooped down upon him and gathered him up into his arms. "Hello, penneth," he said cheerily. "I've come to retrieve you. I want to play you some of my music I've been working on and get your opinion on it."

The elfling blinked up at him sleepily, wondering vaguely why his opinion was so important as to wake him from his nap but not wanting to displease the kindly minstrel. "That sounds nice, my Lord," he said politely, causing the elder elf to smile. The child was adorable…and always so polite! He was certain his plan would work and that soon Glorfindel and the child would be the fastest of friends. Legolas was too courteous to evade the elder elves deliberately, and Lindir did not plan to give him any further opportunity to do so.

The small figure shuffled down the long corridor, his shoulders slumped and his long, blonde hair swinging forward to partially cover his face. Small hands were clenched tightly to the sides of his long tunic, and his entire appearance was of one going to his imminent doom. After a long few minutes of this slow walk, the figure stopped. A small face looked up then, turning first to the large wooden door on his right, then to the similar door on his left. He then looked down at his hands, unclenching them and holding them up before his eyes as though memorizing them. He did this several times, then finally turned to the door on his left and shuffled closer.

Lifting one slightly shaky hand, the small one knocked lightly on the carved wood, the dull thunk barely audible against the expansiveness of the room inside and the thickness of the wooden door. When no one answered, he knocked again a little louder, then he reached up and twisted the doorknob open. "H-hello?" he called out in a shaky voice barely above a whisper. The door creaked inward slowly, and the small figure drew a deep breath—as though to prepare his courage before entering what might be a forbidden room—then, with much effort of will, walked in, leaving the door open behind him.

The small elf—for an elf it was, or elfling rather—looked around with wide eyes once he was inside the room. He was looking for a particular item, one that the scary elf had sent him for. Glorfindel (the scary elf) had told him it was lying on top of the desk against the wall in the sitting room area, and the elfling quickly spotted the desk. Walking over to it, he looked over the entire top of the large wooden structure until his eyes fell on the one main item that was lying on the desk other than a few pieces of scattered papers. His face blanched and his small body jerked back from the item in dismay.

He debated within himself for a few moments. Perhaps the 'item' was one of the pieces of paper… perhaps the elder elf had simply meant something _near_ the desk. Deep in his heart, though, the elfling knew he was just trying to avoid what was soon to happen. The twins had warned him, after all, and it was foolish and childish of him to think any differently. Nay…Glorfindel did not mean a piece of paper; he meant the other main item on the desk—the large, intricately carved cane made of the strongest, oaken wood, wood that could cause the sharpest of pain with only a little blow. Legolas remembered accidentally running into a small oak tree limb before, and the harsh sting as it whipped across his vulnerable cheek. It had brought blood to his fair skin and tears to his eyes, and that was only a small accident! He could only fathom what a purposeful and angry blow could cause.

All the nervous apprehension piled up on him, and the small elfling promptly did what any self-respecting, terrified elfling would do in this situation—he got sick…thoroughly. After spilling what little contents he had in his stomach onto the floor, the little body began to shake with cold and his head started to throb painfully. Legolas whimpered in misery as the room began to spin most alarmingly. He surely could not bring the cane to Glorfindel until the room stayed in one place, so he crawled carefully into the corner of the room behind one of the great easy chairs, hoping to rest long enough for his stomach and the room to stay in one place. Perhaps he could hide here until Glorfindel forgot why he was angry at him—why ever he _was_ angry at him.

The distraught elfling closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around his knees and rocking to soothe both his stomach and his shattered nerves as he recalled the reason he was here in the first place.

Lindir had tricked him; there was honestly no other term for it. The once-kindly minstrel had absconded with him on the pretense of playing a new song for him, then had plumped him down unceremoniously in front of none other than the dreaded 'horrible monster' of the twins' tales. 'Introducing' the elder elf once more to the elfling, the minstrel explained that the renowned Balrog slayer would like to teach him some archery lessons. Legolas had looked up at the dark-haired elf, big eyes filled with shock and betrayal, as he wondered if the other elf really thought _archery_ was an adequate excuse for potential murder.

Nevertheless, Legolas was a prince of Mirkwood, and he was nothing if not polite and courteous. Trying to appear nonchalant, he had pushed aside his forebodings, clenched his shaking hands together to attempt to still them, and then tried to pay close attention to the elder elf's tutelage. He had been forced to admit that the blonde-haired elder elf had not _seemed_ to be angry at him, nor did he have the _appearance_ of a monster. In fact, Legolas had begun to let his guard down after a while of archery practice, and he found himself admiring the other elf's skill and ability to instruct.

It was, of course, (as things must go) when Legolas let his guard down that _IT_ happened. Glorfindel had set aside the bows and quivers of arrows, handing the elfling his water skin as though Legolas were a friend or someone to be cared about. Then, he had made _the_ request—the one the twins had warned him about. He had asked Legolas to go retrieve a special item from his office, giving him directions on how to get there—specifically to choose the door at the _right_ of the long hall.

Legolas had not had a choice of course. He was an obedient elfling, and had no desire to disobey his elders or appear to disrespect them in any way, so he had meekly complied, his head bowed and his shoulders slumped as he went to fetch whatever horrible implement of torture awaited him. Thus he was here now, curled up in as tight of a ball as he could form, silent tears flowing down pale, pain-streaked cheeks as the sickness took hold of his little elfling body and he waited in misery for his impending punishment.

Glorfindel paced back and forth in the archery field nervously. It was taking Legolas _far_ too long to fetch his 'gift,' and his mind was filled with a sense of impending doom. He had been taken aback when his request to fetch the special item had caused the elfling to turn as white as a sheet and start trembling. The twins had _never_ reacted in such a way! Instead, they had always taken off on swift feet with a squeal of joy and excitement, only to return a few minutes later and throw themselves into the waiting elven lord's arms, bright eyes filled with pleasure and gratitude.

He must be slipping. There was no other possibility that could explain the elfling's strange reaction. Perhaps he was wearing an expression of dislike or anger on his face, and just did not realize it. He would have to ask Erestor to view his various expressions later so that he could check his theory. He indeed was beginning to feel like a monster, for 'twas obvious that Legolas had been scared of _something_!

Unable to bear it any longer, the elder elf set off to check on the elfling, determined to find out the matter once and for all—after making sure the child had not gotten himself lost or hurt, of course! He made his way swiftly through the long halls to his own chambers and study, tapping lightly on the study door before opening it and entering; just in case the elfling was in there he did not wish to scare him. He frowned as he looked around, seeing the 'surprise' still lying exactly where he had left it on the desk. Legolas had not seen it yet, then, or had not known what it was. He had wrapped it carefully, though, and even had the elfling's name on the paper, since he knew the child was as yet unfamiliar with the custom.

Glorfindel's frown deepened as he made a quick but thorough search of the rest of the room. He was unable to detect anything out of place. In fact, it looked as though no one had entered except for him. Perhaps the child had simply decided to refuse the instructions? Or, perhaps he had gotten confused as to where to go…in which case the elder elf would need to search for him. He walked out of his room, peering around the hallway, trying to imagine where the elfling would choose to go in his study's stead.

Looking across the hall, he saw the large door leading to Erestor's study. The door was wooden with the same intricate carvings as his own door contained. Perhaps the elfling had just gotten confused as to which door to use? He sighed, walking across to his friend's room and knocking with more emphasis this time. When he received no answer, he slowly cracked the door open and peeked in. Erestor did not take kindly to having his privacy invaded, and he only hoped his friend would understand the need for this intrusion. Seeing and hearing no movement within, the Balrog slayer slipped through the door and closed it silently behind him, hoping to complete his search and leave before anyone spied him.

He walked over to the desk within to see if anything looked disturbed. A feeling of foreboding spread through his old heart as he spied the nice oaken cane lying on his friend's desk. He knew that Erestor had been carving a gift for Elrond's begetting day, and this was apparently it. However, he began to worry that perhaps the elfling thought 'this' was the surprise he had been meant to get. He could only imagine the thoughts that might be running rampant through the elfling's head, and it suddenly became more important than ever to find the little elf. The urgent need intensified when he found the mess of vomit on the floor by the desk, barely missing stepping in it.

Glorfindel scanned the rest of the room quickly. Seeing nothing else out of place, he turned to leave once more and search the elfling's own chambers when his keen ears detected a barely perceptible sniffle coming from the corner of the room by the window. "Legolas?" he called softly, making his way over to the sound. Seeing nothing at first, he bent down to peer behind the chair, groaning inwardly when he found the searched-for elfling in question curled up in a tiny ball on the floor behind the chair.

"Ai…elfling… come here little one." He reached his hands behind the chair, but quickly jerked them back when Legolas let out a wail of terror.

"N-nay, Hir Nin! Saes…do not beat me! I did not mean to be bad…whatever it is that I did to displease you…! Saes…goheno nin…!" The elfling curled up into a tighter ball and began to sob his little heart out, completely distraught as all the past few days' events finally caught up with his shattered nerves.

Poor Glorfindel paled, wondering when he had become such a monster that he would apparently flay tiny elflings alive. He sat back against the wall a few feet away from the hysterical little elf, not wanting to scare him any further. For once in a very long time, he was completely stumped as to what to do to resolve this situation. Not knowing anything else to try, he began to sing the songs he had prepared for the elfling's visit—calming bedtime songs that were filled with funny little sayings.

Eventually, the sobs began to dwindle and the elfling stilled. Glorfindel did not miss a beat, but continued to sing softly, his voice rising and falling with each cadence. After several more songs, the elfling finally raised a tear-stained, too-pale face to peek over at the elder elf. Curiosity in his eyes, he watched him carefully. Glorfindel pretended not to notice and continued to sing instead, casually forming his fair face into as sad of an expression as he could make it.

Finally, the curiosity and compassion won out over the fear, and the child scooted a little closer, reaching out a shaky hand to tug at the elder elf's sleeve (making sure the rest of him stayed out of grabbing distance). "E-excuse me…my Lord…?" he said tentatively, and Glorfindel instantly stopped singing, casting his saddened gaze upon the small child.

"Yes? What is it, child?" he asked in a gentle tone.

"W-why are you…" Legolas took a deep breath and tried again. "Why are you so sad…and why are you singing?"

Deep green eyes peered at the little elf. "I am merely singing the songs I had prepared especially for you. I do not know if you will ever wish to spend time with me or not, and I thought this might be the only chance I had to sing them to you."

Blue eyes opened wide. "You prepared those songs…just for me?" he asked in wonder, the fear beginning to lessen ever so slightly more.

"Aye, I did in fact. You see, I have been looking forward to meeting you for a very long time. I have been a friend of your father's for many centuries, and would have loved to get to know his only son. Ah well…I suppose it was not meant to be…" and the elder elf lowered his head sadly, keeping his face carefully schooled against the humor he felt.

Legolas pursed his lips together as he considered this. He felt another wave of sickness pass over him and grabbed his stomach tightly. Glorfindel noticed and worried, remembering the mess he had found on the floor. Elflings did not get sick unless injured or grieving, and neither was a good option for this little one. The elfling did not notice the worried look, though. He was too busy thinking on the surprising words of the elder elf. "Why were you sad then, Hir Nin?" he persisted.

Glorfindel hid a smile. "Why…I was sad because you seem to be afraid of me, penneth, and I would never do _anything_ to harm an elfling, so I am sad that you would think otherwise. We have not even gotten the chance to get to know each other, yet you have accused me of being a monster…"

Dismay flooded the elfling's teary face and he scooted just a little closer. "N-nay…" he said, placing his other hand on Glorfindel's sleeve as well. "I did not mean to make you sad…the twins said…" he stopped when he realized what he had been about to say, slamming a little hand over his mouth as fear once more filled his huge eyes.

"Aaahh," said Glorfindel as the problem dawned suddenly upon him. "And just what have the twins been saying about me?" He reached forward slowly and pulled the now unresisting elfling into his lap, cuddling him tightly against his broad chest and smoothing gentle fingers through the mussed blonde hair before the child had the chance to quite realize what was happening and get scared again.

Legolas' eyes opened wide at the realization that he was firmly ensconced in the elder elf's grip, and yet Glorfindel's touch was gentle and almost 'caring,' not fierce and painful… He looked up at the elder elf, his big blue eyes assessing and cautious. Glorfindel could not refrain from leaning down and pressing a soft kiss on top of the soft little head, causing the small elfling to blink in surprise. The elder elf smiled at him kindly. "I think perhaps, little one, that the twins have made us both the recipient of one of their little pranks…"

Blue eyes blinked again, doubt shining in them. A small hand reached up to clutch the elder's tunic front in the slightest beginnings of trust. "Do you know, Legolas, what I used to do when the twins were little?" Legolas shook his head, staring patiently at the other. Glorfindel's heart lurched at the innocent look the child was giving him. "I had this game I would play with them…I would tell them to go retrieve a special item from my study–the door on the right—and they would always find a special gift of some type…a nice toy they could play with…a special treat that tasted delicious…but always something to bring a smile to their faces."

Legolas pulled back, confusion and uncertainty appearing on the fair, small face. Glorfindel brushed a loose strand of hair away from the elfling's face, feeling a wave of happiness sweep over him when the child held still instead of jerking away at the touch. "Why did you choose this door, anyway, penneth? Did you think this was the door to your right?"

The elfling looked down at his hands then, his cheeks flushing a deep red. Glorfindel lifted the little chin in firm fingers to meet the child's eyes. "Legolas.." he warned, his tone firm.

"S-sometimes…I still get my right mixed up with my left…" the child whispered hesitantly as tears of shame begin to feel the blue eyes. Glorfindel frowned at the child's embarrassment, pressing the little elf tightly into his embrace once more.

"I am sorry, little one. I should have realized…you are still young. There is nothing wrong with that, for there are some things you have yet to learn. It is only your age, not lack of adequacy on your part."

Legolas sighed as a lone tear trickled down his cheek. He grabbed once more onto the elder elf's tunic, burying his face in the warm shoulder. The twins were wrong! Glorfindel was not a mean elf at all! For why would he be taking the time to make him feel better if that were true?

Glorfindel stood then with the elfling in his arms. "Come, little one. Let us go to the _correct_ door, the one on the right, so that you may see what it is that I really wanted you to retrieve for me." The child tensed up then, wondering if he had been wrong, if perhaps the elder elf would show him something even worse than the oak cane. He had not much time to think on the matter, though, before Glorfindel had quickly crossed the hall and entered his own study, bringing him up to the desk whereupon lay a brightly colored package with Legolas' own name inscribed on the paper.

The little elf's eyes opened wide and he pulled back in Glorfindel's arms to better view the package. The elder elf smiled, lifting the package in one hand and tearing the paper at the same time. He figured it would be best to show the elfling himself this time. The child could open the package himself the next time around, when his fears had been successfully laid to rest. Legolas lifted a little hand to his mouth in amazement when he saw the perfectly formed little wooden warrior and horse, complete with miniature bow and arrow. The set had been painted to match Legolas and his own little horse at home, though the elfling knew not how the elder elf had known of the horse's color. He reached a slightly shaking hand over to touch the figures with one finger reverently, then lifted huge eyes up to meet the elder elf's questioningly.

"Aye, penneth. I made this for you. Elrond told me the color of your horse. I wanted to give you something to remind you of home, and also to encourage you with your archery, for you are excellent at it." Glorfindel set the little elf down on his desk, placing the package gently in his small hands. He smiled as the little elf began to thoroughly explore the tiny figures, his eyes wide in amazement. "You see, little one, I do not make a habit of beating elflings. In fact, I have never beaten an elfling that I can recall…and I am fairly certain I would not forget such a thing…nor have I ever beaten the twins, as well they know. They have thoroughly pranked us, and I think we should consider how we may avenge ourselves to them. What say you?"

Legolas halted his examination of the exciting toys to throw his arms around the elven lord. "Goheno nin," he whispered. "I did not mean to misjudge you, my Lord. I am so very sorry!"

Glorfindel's heart fluttered in a strange way. This child was too sweet for words! How had Thranduil managed to raise such an amazing elfling? He clasped the elfling to him once more. "Nay, child. It was not your fault. You could not have known that the twins were not being truthful. Sometimes misinformation can lead to even worse mistakes than what has happened to you and I. Let us be grateful that we have discovered the truth and can start anew in our friendship." He pulled back then to look the elfling in the eyes. "Can we start over, Legolas? I would very much like to get to know you and hope that we can become friends." His voice held a strange note of longing that the wise elfling could easily detect.

Legolas nodded shyly, his eyes shining in happiness. Now that his fears of the 'terrifying monster' had been put to rest, he was beginning to feel much better. His head and stomach were even beginning to hurt less, though he still felt weak, as was evidenced by a bout of coughing. Glorfindel frowned, picking him up swiftly, the little figures firmly ensconced in the child's hands, and carrying him straight to Elrond, where he proceeded to disclose the entire morbid tale while his friend examined the elfling.

Elrond quickly determined that the elfling had taken ill from the stress he had endured, as elflings will do, and put the child to bed with warm teas and poultices to help his cough. Legolas did not mind, for he had such nice new toys to play with, and an even nicer friend to sit with him and tell him many stories of when his father was younger. Glorfindel was more than happy to keep the child company while Elrond effectively dealt with the miscreant twin sons of his.

When Elladan and Elrohir found out that their 'prank' had caused the beloved elfling to become ill, they fully learned their lesson about giving out misinformation to children, apologizing profusely to both a very happy Legolas and Glorfindel. Legolas was quick to forgive them, as was his nature, but it was Glorfindel who convinced him at a later date to join him in playing the ultimate prank on the twins. But that is a story for another time…for all involved had successfully learned the consequences of misinformation…at least for that time…and Legolas had rightly and happily learned to make sure of his sources of information before making assumptions about others!

 **Elvish Translations**

 _Penneth_ – Young one

 _Hannon le._ – Thank you.

 _Goheno nin_. – Forgive me.

 _Saes_ – Please

 _Mellon nin_. – My friend.

 _Hir Nin_ – My Lord

 _Hir_ – Lord


End file.
